


What An Odd Pair We Make

by RandomW07



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dragon Riding AU, Light-Hearted, M/M, romania's a dragon nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27559279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomW07/pseuds/RandomW07
Summary: Vasilica has never been particularly good at, well, anything, so blowing his one opportunity to help groom the world champion's dragon shouldn't come as a surprise. Running into a guy his age who just so happens to hate dragon riding is just another sign of his bad luck.But perhaps Aleksandar isn't as bad a person as he would have thought...
Relationships: Bulgaria/Romania (Hetalia)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 4





	What An Odd Pair We Make

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon on Tumblr who requested some RoBul. I thought it was a good opportunity to start to explore an au I've had in mind for little over a year now! It's also my first time writing in Bulgaria's POV, so I hope it reads okay (side note: set in France) ^^
> 
> Names used:  
> \- Vasilica: Romania  
> \- Aleksandar: Bulgaria   
> \- Eirik: Norway  
> \- Štefan: Slovakia   
> \- Agáta: Czechia

_I'm messing this up, aren't I?_

Hard to tell. With every brush of the sponge against her scales, Nisse's sides heaved, a growl rumbling in her throat. Her long tail lashed the air with such ferocity Vasilica's hands began to tremble, his confident scrubbing motions faltering more and more with every passing minute. Yet Eirik paid his dragon no mind as he rid her claws of mud and grit, giving his helper no sign he was doing something wrong. Did that mean he wasn't doing too bad? He tried to steady his breathing. Nothing to worry about. Nisse just wasn't used to him yet, that was all. He was doing fine.

Plunging the sponge back into the bucket of soapy water, Vasilica took a step back and assessed his work. Pale scales shone under the artificial lights of the stables, a faint pink that almost appeared white, but it was a dull shine, lacking in its usual radiance. Why though? Upon closer inspection, he realised with sudden horror that many of them were smeared, the soap suds not fading away as they should. He no longer had in front of him an elegant world champion, but a family pet the children had been given permission to groom. No wonder she looked furious.

He bit his lip. How typical of him, to blow his one opportunity to stand out and be noticed by his betters. Why had he expected anything else? Because he was an idealistic idiot. Even though he'd only recently been able to afford a membership card at his local club, he had still believed he could catch up to his peers' years of experience quickly. How _stupid_.

Should he say something? Ask Eirik for help? He opened his mouth, only to quickly shut it again. He couldn't ask for advice; he was sixteen, not six! What would Eirik think? What would he tell Mr Vargas? No, he could fix it himself. Better stay silent than have Mr Vargas realise he'd overestimated him and be sent back to mucking out stalls.

He'd hesitated too long. Thanks to some invisible signal he had no way of knowing, Nisse had alerted her rider to his predicament. Eirik's head snapped up, and before Vasilica could get back to work, their eyes met. Confusion flickering across his face, the experienced rider arched an eyebrow, searching gaze piercing his soul. No getting out of it now. Vasilica looked away.

"Uh, just, does this look right? Some of the scales are smeared."

Eirik sprang to his feet, as graceful on land as his dragon was in the air. He patted Nisse's shoulder before making his way to where Vasilica stood, where he assessed the teenager's work in silence. Arms crossed, his fingers drummed against his elbows in what Vasilica hoped wasn't irritation, a frown darkening his features. After an uncomfortable eternity, he sighed. 

"Your technique could use some work, but we don't have time for you to practice right now. Probably best if I handle the rest by myself."

Vasilica's heart sank. How long had he been grooming Nisse? An hour? And he'd messed up. An entire hour wasted. An hour Eirik would have to work even harder if he wanted to finish on time. All because Vasilica didn't know how to wash a dragon's scales. He wanted to cry. 

"Ah, sure, okay, no problem. Do you, uh... Do you need help with anything else?"

Nothing more than a shrug. Well, that answered that question. Guess he'd be spending the day wandering aimlessly around, waiting for Mr Vargas to find him and shout at him for meandering. Fun.

"You can polish Nisse's saddle if you want."

Only an afterthought, yet Vasilica pounced on it as if it were the most important task he could have been given. Swallowing his previous disappointment, banishing the bitterness from his mind rather than leaving it to fester, he forced a smile on his face as he bid Eirik and Nisse goodbye, and scurried off to the tack room.

It was packed, as expected. While some stablehands had chosen to work by the saddle stands, a bucket of water and box of supplies at their feet, others were carrying their tack to the benches in the hall instead. Sharing a tack room with other academies unfortunately meant that accusations of sabotage ran wild; for many, it was better to linger in outside, where stares were more curious than cautious. That didn't stop suspicious gases following Vasilica as he staggered outside, weighed down by the heavy saddle in his arms.

He hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath until he set the saddle on his knees and released it in one long exhale. Competitive dragon riding was stressful. If he already felt like sinking into the earth walking into the tack room, he couldn't imagine the pressure weighing on the riders' shoulders. Inhuman, the lot of them.

At least he had a good view here. Something to distract him from the monotony of the task. Riders, dragons, stablehands, organisers, all rushed back and forth, in and out of the various stable wings, on edge or buzzing with excitement. Tomorrow would be the first event, after all. Tensions were running high.

Yet a certain resignation slowed people's steps. Two names hung in the air, records from previous years playing on repeat wherever they turned. Two faces stared back at everyone, on every poster, every magazine cover. They recognised the saddle Vasilica was taking apart as he checked it for damage, despair causing their shoulders to slump as they gritted their teeth and forced themselves to finish their tasks.

How difficult must it to accept they were competing against an unbeatable opponent? How could they hope to win when Eirik and Nisse broke their own records at every event? How could they still find the urge to participate when they knew they were fighting for second place? Vasilica admired their determination, however faltering it may seem.

Not everyone's determination wavered upon spotting Nisse's saddle, however. Gilbert Beilschmidt acknowledged him with a smile and a wave, a skip in his step as he headed to the food stalls. His pet dragonling Gilbird fluttered around his head, a cute little thing with feathers that shone like melted gold, chirping a greeting as he identified the stablehand. Eirik's biggest rival and oldest friend, he was determined to come out on top this event. His constant bragging about Vogel's skills were beginning to get on everyone's nerves.

A calm and composed Yao Wang was making his way towards the stables, pushing a wheelbarrow of warmed pebbles for Ao Kuang. Another top rider who feared nothing. He had come close to defeating Eirik in the acrobatics event the previous year, and from what the journalists were reporting, he wasn't planning on making any mistakes this time around. Even though they were from rival schools, Vasilica was looking forward to watching him compete.

Distracted by his thoughts, he didn't notice the person joining him on the bench until a sudden huff almost made him spill polish all over the floor.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you! Are you alright?"

He glared at the stranger. A young man with scruffy dark hair, a student like him it appeared, with a bulging backpack on his lap and a worried expression on his face. Vasilica instantly felt suspicious. Who was he and what was he doing sharing a bench without warning? Someone from a rival school hoping to obtain information? Was he planning an act of sabotage?

"Can I _help_ you with something?"

The stranger shrugged, taken aback by his sharp tone.

"Not really. I'm supposed to be with the rest of my class, but they're visiting the stables right now. Thought I'd wait here for them." He hesitated. "Am I not supposed to be here? I just thought there was plenty of space for two people."

A school trip to the world championships? And this stranger would rather wait on a bench instead of going to see all the famous dragons and their riders. Why waste such an opportunity? Vasilica whistled.

"Wow, lucky you! Wish my school did these kind of school trips. Best we had was four nights in Paris."

"I'd take the four nights in Paris any day. Dragons aren't really my thing. No offence."

Vasilica blinked. Not everyone liked dragons, that was to be expected, but to meet someone who disliked them at the world championships of all places was... strange, to say the least. He wasn't sure how to respond.

"Oh. Okay. Uh, guess this must suck for you, huh?"

"I'm not thrilled to be here, I won't lie. But it's not all bad. You seem pretty cool."

Vasilica prayed his face wasn't as red as it felt. He wasn't used to being considered cool. A dragon nerd with a love for all things horror, who wore bright clothes and played D&D every weekend. Not exactly what first came to mind when asked to describe a cool person. Maybe the stranger was only being nice.

"Ah, thanks. My name's Vasilica, by the way. You can call me Vas if you want."

"Aleks. It's short for Aleksandar. Nice to meet you."

* * *

Aleksandar couldn't put a finger on why his heart fluttered at the thought of running into Vasilica again. They hadn't spoken much - a few hours at most - just long enough to start to get to know each other, two outcasts trying their best to fit in. Vasilica hadn't judged him for his dislike dragon, hadn't interrogated him like most people did, hadn't prodded and poked in hope of finding a trauma that would explain such a sin. Oh, he'd looked confused, of course - what was Aleksandar doing here, at the world championships, if he disliked dragons so much? - but he hadn't made a fuss about it. Perhaps that was why Aleksandar liked him so much.

Unfortunately, one meeting with Vasilica hadn't changed his thoughts on the trip itself. Today, for example, their professors had booked seats for the first half of the very first event - acrobatics, according to the program he'd been given. Four hours staring up at the sky on hard, plastic seats. To say he wasn't looking forward to it would be an understatement.

"Don't look so glum. You'll make it feel even longer if you sulk like that," Agáta scolded him.

Aleksandar ignored her. Easy for her to say, when she dreamt of competing someday. Besides, he wasn't sulking. He was searching the not-quite-a-crowd-yet in the vague hope he might spot Vasilica. Apparently riding schools had a tendency to group together at these kind of events, to cheer their own on. Maybe he'd get lucky for once? It really would be nice to exchange numbers and stay in touch.

"Looking for the guy you met yesterday?" his other friend, Štefan, leaned over.

"Mhm."

Apparently luck was on his side for once. Sporting an easily recognisable red coat he hadn't been wearing yesterday, Vasilica was making his way down the stairs towards the front rows. Aleksandar pounced on the opportunity. There was a spare seat next to him. He doubted his classmates or teachers would notice.

"I'm going to invite him to sit with us. Cover for me?"

A mixture of amusement and exasperation rang in his friends' grumbles of agreement, but he knew he could trust them. Besides, it wouldn't be like yesterday. He should only be gone ten minutes at most.

Vasilica waved him over the moment he spotted him, a grin spreading across his face. Aleksandar couldn't hide his own smile, trying to appear as casual as possible as he wandered over.

"Hey."

"Hey! You skiving again?"

Aleksandar laughed, shaking his head as he gestured to his classmates.

"Not this time. There's a spare seat if you fancy it? You're better company."

"Sure!"

Was he imagining the flush spreading across his friend's cheeks? Probably. Clearing his thoughts, he led Vasilica back to his seat, and cast his gaze to the arena. Completely bare, save for an elevated platform he assumed the dragon would use to launch themselves into the air. Pale sand covered the floor of the ring, although Aleksandar doubted it would soften any potential fall. Judging from the height of the stands and the screens currently playing adverts, the dragons would be flying much higher than he would have expected.

"What are we watching?" he asked.

Vasilica’s awkward demeanour at finding himself among school trip he wasn't part of melted immediately. He leant forward, eyes lit with a sudden passion Aleksandar had caught glimpses of during their last conversation.

"Acrobatics! It's kinda like dancing. Each pair has a certain number of figures to perform to a music of their choice. Riders have to design their choreography themselves, so it's pretty challenging in that aspect. Even if you don't like dragons, you can still find it beautiful to watch." He turned his attention to the adverts flashing on the screen. "The ones to look out for are Edelstein and Chopin, they've been champions at this for years. It'll be interesting to see whether Eirik and Nisse can dethrone them."

Aleksandar didn't pay much attention to the details. Instead, he listened to the sound of Vasilica's voice, his excitement sparking with every word. He noticed how he was unable to sit still, leg bouncing, hands conducting the symphony of his speech, entire being buzzing with energy. A firefly, one the young man felt inexplicably drawn to. 

The sudden dimming of the lights caused him to glare at the arena, biting back a groan as Vasilica fell silent. The presenter's voice rang through the speakers, a series of boring reminders no one cared about rolling off his tongue. Before he could make a joke about it, the arena lit up and the event began.

* * *

Pair after pair took to the skies. Dragons swooped and dived to a variety of melodies, from classical compositions to popular tunes he often heard on the radio, in a clumsy imitation of dance. Vasilica leant over to whisper in his ear every few minutes, a constant trickle of information about perfectly executed figures and costly mistakes. Little by little, Aleksandar began to pay attention to the details his friend pointed out. The way riders guided their dragons with gentle pushes on the stirrups, yet trusted them to perform the expected figures without further intervention. He couldn't deny the awkward elegance of their movements, how their minds seemed united in a sense, a symbiosis between man and beast.

The first performance not to be rewarded with cheers from the audience took place halfway through the event. Hasty, rushed figures visibly cost the pair any chance of finding themselves among the top ten. Aleksandar could practically feel the rider's frustration from here. The feathered dragon left the arena with her head hanging and her claws dragging in the sand. Vasilica frowned.

"Damn, acrobatics isn't their best event, but they don't usually do _this_ badly at it. I've never seen Vogel so distracted. Girl won't be happy with that at all."

The next pair to be announced by the presenter caused an explosion of cheers to swallow Vasilica's next words. Aleksandar was surprised to see him grimace even further when he heard the names. Eirik and Nisse. The current world champions.

"What's wrong? I thought you were looking forward to Eirik and Nisse's performance?" he half-shouted into his friend's ear.

"I am! But Gil really couldn't have worse luck. Each performance influences the next one, and, well, there's a good chance he's just awarded his biggest rival the trophy."

"Damn. That must be hard to swallow."

"Yeah..." Vasilica suddenly brightened. "This will be worth a watch. These two are in a league of their own."

They turned their attention back to the arena. A pale dragon was making her way to the platform, her scales glowing under the artificial lights, her saddle gleaming. Her rider sat with his back straight, feet firmly secured to the stirrups, reins held in one hand. Both man and Dragon seemed to look the jury in the eye before bowing in perfect synchronisation. Eirik's arm mirrored the spread of Nisse's wings, her lowered head echoed the solemnity of his own. It send a shiver down Aleksandar's spine.

A beat of silence. Anticipation rippled through the crowd, yet the pair seemed oblivious to it, poised for take-off, awaiting the first note. As a melody he didn't recognise filled the air, Nisse launched herself into the sky, and nothing else mattered anymore.

Vasilica had been right. The pair were on an entirely different level. He only spotted Eirik's subtle signals thanks to his friend's whispered comments - a slight nudge of his heel against her flank, a tug on the left stirrup. To him, it was as if Nisse was responding to something invisible as she danced, a seamless extension of her rider's body. Every flap of her wings matched the beat of the music as she rolled and arched her body in perfect circles. Eirik remained perfectly stable atop her back, leaning back as they plunge, barely shifting in his seat as they soared towards the sky a split-second later. Faced with such elegance and grace, Aleksandar could do nothing but stare, mesmerized by the art of dragon riding for the first time in his life. He barely felt Vasilica's body press closer to his, a cautious hand casually brushing against his own. What would it feel like to hold that hand? The thought flickered in his mind before he could stop it. It felt nice, he realised.

The spell broke as the music ended. Nisse landed on the platform, spread her wings in the same majestic bow she had given at the start. Aleksandar let go of Vasilica's hand.

"Wow," he breathed.

The audience jumped to their feet in thunderous applauds, the jury raising their panels to give them four tens without hesitation. Nisse let out a trill from the back of her throat as Eirik scratched her scales, both radiating an energy unlike any Aleksandar had felt before.

"Can't see anyone beating that," Vasilica said, eyes shining.

Neither could he. And, as predicted, by the end of the morning, not one pair had come anywhere close to the dazzling beauty of Eirik and Nisse's performance.

Aleksandar almost felt disappointed when he remembered he wouldn't be staying for the second half of the event. He liked Vasilica. More than he probably should considering they had only met yesterday and he knew very little about him. Then again, wasn't his mum always telling him about how quickly these things went when you were young? While his classmates began to gather their things, he leant over to him.

"Can I have your number this time? So we can watch the rest of the events together?"

Why did his heart flutter as Vasilica entered his contact information and sent himself a message? Why was it so difficult to leave him sitting by himself with a soggy sandwich while he followed the rest of his class back outside?

Maybe this trip didn't suck as much as he had originally feared, he thought as he glanced at the message Vasilica had just send him.

**_From: Vasilica (your dragon expert friend ;) )_ **

**_Quick question: you are into guys right? I'm not making things up?_ **

He smiled as he typed a reply. Having to spend time around dragons for a few days was definitely worth meeting Vasilica. No doubt about that. 


End file.
